


Business Relationship

by hatebeat



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1213900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatebeat/pseuds/hatebeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pickles won't forget what Charles can't remember (circa 1996).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Relationship

Years later, none of them would think that the major label debut release party was anything to write home about, but for a young band and their young manager, it was everything they could have asked for. The alcohol flowed freely and there were important people there, people in suits and ties- even the head of the label had made an appearance- even though the hall it was held in wasn't really all that great. But they were partying on the label's dime, and that was enough to make each of them feel _something_ on a scale from proud to horny. 

Pickles had been through all this shit before. That wasn't to say he wasn't enjoying it- it was fun as hell. He got all the booze he could drink and his talents were being celebrated. Those were two of his favourite things. But he hated the kinds of parties that people in suits and ties frequented. It reeked of the industry, and he hated those guys.

Everything that went down with Snakes N' Barrels had left a bad taste in his mouth, even if he'd rather not admit it. Or think about it. At all.

But this wasn't Snakes N' Barrels, and no matter how many shitty bands he'd had since then, Dethklok was the real deal, and this party was the proof of that. It would be Dethklok from here on out- now was their fuckin' time to shine!

They all knew it. They all got damned sloppy. It was late in the night and things were maybe starting to wind down a bit, but Pickles had blown some of their advance and scored some nice coke that morning, and despite the percentage of his blood in his body that had been swapped for liquor, he was still wired way into the evening, even if he was almost getting tired of hearing their new album playing on loop.

Pickles had to piss and he made his way through the thick of it all to the bathroom, but when he jiggled the handle, that shit was locked tight. He kept jiggling it until it opened, and he realised it was a single-stall kind of deal, but the guy pushing the door open from the inside out made him forget he even had to pee in the first place. 

"Ofdensen! Fancy meetin' you here, eh?" Pickles clapped a hand onto their manager's shoulder, giving him a quick look-over. His shirt was halfway untucked and his tie hung loose. There was a guy who typically didn't let one hair slip out of place standing before him looking totally disheveled, and Pickles realised in that moment for the first time ever that this guy was an actual human being, not just some guy in a suit and tie that could fuck them over in a heartbeat, not even think twice about it.

That realisation made Pickles feel something close to feral.

"Pickles," Charles said simply, but he was squinting over the tops of his lenses at Pickles, looking like he was having a hard time focusing. 

By his shoulder, Pickles pushed Charles to take a step back into the restroom, and when Pickles' feet crossed the threshold to join him, he made sure to click the lock.

"What are you-?"

"You're drunk, Ofdensen," Pickles told him plainly, as if the guy had no idea. "Drunk as shit, dude." 

Pickles could smell it on his breath. 

"So are you," Charles accused him, but he was looking down, then, looking helplessly at Pickle's fingers fumbling to pull his belt from the loop.

"Yeah," Pickles agreed, grinning lopsidedly. "High, too. Want some? Got a little left."

Pickle momentarily abandoned his project in the front of Ofdensen's pants to pull the little bag from his back pocket, shaking the remnants of his earlier purchase temptingly in Charles' line of sight. Charles seemed to consider it for a moment.

"Maybe later," he decided finally, and Pickles shrugged, stuffed the coke away, and yanked Charles' zipper down without further ado.

Pickles turned his arm to get his palm into the front of Charles' boxers, watching his face and the way he was suddenly panting as his fingers began to pet his half-hard dick. When he felt the telltale signs of Charles starting to get more excited in his hand, Pickles leaned close and chanced a quick kiss to his lips. 

He pulled away fast, laughing. 

"You come in here to puke, dude?" Pickles asked, but it wasn't a question- he could taste it.

"Some of us don't drink this heavily on a regular basis anymore," Charles muttered defensively, and the look on his face was priceless. Guy was getting more and more human by the second, and Pickles couldn't get enough. 

"Professional suit guy like you an' all, pukin' at a party... who'da thunk it?" Pickles teased him, but even as Charles tried to bite back, Pickles took the initiative to pull his cock through the slit at the front of his boxers, to run his fingers over the tip, and the words died on Charles' lips.

"I'm gonna blow you, dude," Pickles told him, sinking clumsily to his knees, eyes looking up at Charles the whole time, even as he brushed his lips up his length. 

"Do it, then," Charles told him, breath hitching slightly. He sounded so much more confident than he looked. He looked a damned fucking wreck, but he sounded like he was in control, and Pickles couldn't remember the last time he'd ever been so aroused.

He took Charles right in, tasting every inch of him, getting to know the flavour through the haze of the drunk and high. Pickles pushed on, showing Charles just how deeply he could take it- he was experienced, after all, he'd had _practice_. And Charles was just some uptight guy in a suit- dude probably never got laid.

Pickles hooked his index finger over the waistband of Charles' boxers and inched them down, having to pull away from his cock just a moment as he slid the cotton down his thighs. Charles had pretty nice thighs, Pickles decided right then. 

He didn't waste too much time admiring them, though. He got back to work, showing Charles exactly how good he could be. When Charles latched fingers in his hair, using his dreads like some sort of handle, Pickles started to paw at himself through the front of his jeans. 

He'd only just gotten his pants unzipped by the time Charles thrust hard against his tongue and his cum trickled past Pickles' taste buds, into his throat. Pickles pulled out his cock, stroking himself fast and messy, just wanting to get off, but when Charles tried to pull back, tried to slump against the wall to catch his breath, Pickles reached up and yanked him by his tie, pulling him down to Pickles' level. Pickles kissed him, forcing him to taste himself on Pickles' tongue.

The taste of his own cum had to be better than the lingering aftertaste of his puke.

 

Pickles never saw Charles looking so disheveled and undone again- not for years and years, at least. But he never forgot. Every time he looked Charles Ofdensen in the eye, he saw a hint of the man who let himself get too wasted in celebration of the new band he was so damned proud to represent. The guy who let one of his clients blow him in the bathroom.

There was a point in time, it was only about two weeks or so after the party, Pickles had tried to bring it up. He wanted _more_. But Charles was confused, Charles didn't remember, and Pickles couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but he'd been around these fuckin' suits long enough that he had an idea that Charles might actually be being honest. He _had_ been pretty wasted, after all.

But Pickles was persistent. He acted out. He did whatever he had to do to make Charles look at him- whether it was destruction of property or getting himself into heaps of legal trouble. Frequently, both at once. He knew that there was a human being in there somewhere- Pickles had met him. And eventually, he'd get him back.

Because that human in there, he was attracted to Pickles just as much as Pickles was attracted to him. Or at least, Pickles was pretty sure he was.


End file.
